


Fathers/Sons

by NotHereNJ (efficaceous)



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:53:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28028835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/efficaceous/pseuds/NotHereNJ
Summary: I had an idea for a sad moment, and instead of suffering alone, I am sharing it with you.Mickey and Lip discuss relationships and fatherhood.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Lip Gallagher/Tami Tamietti
Comments: 8
Kudos: 56





	Fathers/Sons

Mickey found Lip in the kitchen, a short, clear glass in front of him. It was empty, but he was guessing by the flush in Lip’s cheeks that it hadn’t been a glass of juice.

He didn’t really _want_ to have a heart-to-heart, but he was part of a family now. That meant things, he guessed.

“You ok, man?”

Lip shook his head. “No offence, but fuck off, Mickey.”

The slight slur in the words meant nothing good, and Mickey already knew how Ian would react when he got home from work. His husband hated seeing his older brother suffering and miserable, even if he always brought it on himself with his shitty decisions.

Instead of fucking off, he pulled two bottles out of the fridge and slid into the seat across the table from Lip. Wordlessly, he pushed one of the beers to Lip, and cracked the other open for himself. He didn’t watch Lip, instead taking a long swallow, letting the cold liquid slide down his throat and cool his belly. 

Lip watched him warily, before cracking open his drink and doing likewise.

“It’s Tami.”

Mickey’d figured as much. If it was anything else, Lip would be drinking in his own shitty kitchen. He nodded, trying to encourage Lip to get it out; maybe burst the pain bubble before Ian came home and had to watch it.

“She- we’re- I guess we’re done. She’s taking Fred to Milwaukee.”

“Jesus,” Mickey snapped his mouth shut after the first shocked word escaped. 

Lip loved that kid, everyone did. He was pretty cute, didn’t scream too much, Mickey had even given him a piggyback ride a couple times, to make Franny laugh.

Lip didn’t seem inclined to say anything else, was instead focused on draining the brown bottle to its dregs.

“Baby mamas, eh?” Mickey ventured, trying to find some common ground to empathize with Lip on. This was something else he’d learned from Ian, that Ian had learned from one therapist or another. Show people you understood what they were going through by sharing your own experience. Apparently it felt less judgemental that way.

“ _Baby mamas_?” Lip repeated in disbelief. “You’re comparing Tami to your coked-out whore of a wife?”

“Listen, man, I’m just sayin’-”

“No, you know what, seriously, fuck you, Mickey. That kid probably wasn’t even yours, you haven’t seen him in years, wouldn’t recognize him on the street, and you’re trying to say you _understand_ what I’m going through?” 

The sardonic twist to the words, it was designed to be a weapon to drive Mickey off. He was experienced at fighting with Gallaghers, had tried to work on using his words, but this subtle cruelty was a new thing. Terry was always direct- death threats. Mandy’s taunts had been toothless. This was Phillip Gallagher putting his not-inconsiderable brain into the meanest possible things he could say, and finding the chinks in Mickey’s armor.

He was right, of course he was. Yev was a kid now, not a baby or a toddler. He could be anywhere, Svet probably dropped him off at a fire station when she got a better offer, cause anywhere was better for him than with Mickey. That had been true.

“You love her?” The question hung in the still air of the kitchen.

“I thought… I thought I could. Like, not yet, but someday, probably.”

“Someday ain’t enough. You gotta love her now, for her to stay. If you don’t- she’s right to go, even though it blows.”

Mickey's cell phone buzzed in his pocket, but he ignored it for now. Probably Ian, sending him some dumb meme. Or a dick pic. Lip was just sitting, staring at the table, a broken cant to his shoulders.

“You two fuck a lot still?”

“With a six-month old in the house? Shit, we barely kiss in the morning- her breath could kill a horse.”

Mickey shook his head. Ian’s breath in the morning wasn’t roses either, nor did Mickey wake up tasting like hot cocoa, but neither of them cared. 

“You know you can’t stay together just cause you got a kid.”

“Frank and Monica did, sorta.”

“Oh, and that’s who you’re basing your healthy fuckin’ relationship on? Fuck off with that shit. Neither of us knows what it means to be a good father or partner. I’m just makin’ shit up and hoping I don’t fuck up too badly.”

Lip eyed him. “You’re- you’re doin’ fine, Mickey. Ian’s still just as hung up on you as he was when he was 16. Even though you put him through hell.” 

Mickey knew, understood, why Lip would always look at it from that perspective, but it sold the whole thing short. “We put each other through hell, and carried each other out the other side. That’s fuckin’ love, I guess.” He stood up. Silently, he left the table, chugged the rest of his beer, and tossed the bottle into the trash can. “Call your fuckin’ sponsor, Phillip.” 

Lip laid his head on the table, and as Mickey went up the stairs to lick his wounds in private, he could hear small noises, sounds of a grown-ass man crying.

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
